wham, bam, thank you, ma'am
by La Salle De Bain
Summary: [crack] And alas, Greed is left with three little problems.
1. blame the condom

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am / chapter one**

Life sucks.

Really—it does.

And this is coming from one of those cheery chaps who thinks everyone should "live life to its fullest." Well, at least on ex-cheery-chap-who-thinks-everyone-should-"live-life-to-its-fullest." I _spit_ on that idea now.

HAH!

…Ew.

But, you know, I'm a laid-back kinda guy. All I honestly care about it the booze, the bucks, and the breasts. See? I'm not really the spoiled type. I just go with the flow. Hell, 'Easystreet' is my middle name! My _first_ name is Greed, if it matters. Greed Easystreet—hm. I'm don't think my species comes with last names. Can I make one up? I think I'll make one up.

Johnson.

Greed Easystreet Johnson.

Sweet.

With _that_ out of my system, let's talk about one of my favorite things: women. You see, I get around. A lot. I've plowed more things than a freaking farmer. I've screwed _so many_ women, I seriously have an eternal erection—IT'S ALWAYS UP. IT WON'T TAKE A BREAK. THAT IS HOW MANY TIMES I'VE HAD SEX.

And I don't even know half the women I've done it with. Honestly. But I just snap my fingers and they pretty much get the picture. Heh, it's _wonderful_ being me.

So, naturally, something like THIS could've happened. What, you ask? Well. It's demonic, I tell. Cruel and unusual. Awkward as all of hell (and yes, I've been there—drunk). And if _I_ tell you stuff like this, don't say I'm over-reacting or something. I'm not a thing like that fag Envy. Urgh. We're TOTALLY different, aside from we're both rather fond of leather. But, hell, who _isn't?_

…Okay, it's not THAT bad, but like, totally unexpected. Like a slap on the damn back.

It was a few weeks ago. I'm chillin' at the bar with my lackeys—err, sidekicks. They're getting me beer, I'm _drinking_ said beer; all that jazz. I can always count of Loa, Dorchet, and Martel. But anyway, the doorbell rings (…what the hell is a doorbell doing in a bar, anyway?) and Martel goes and answers it 'cause she's a chick and that's what she does. As soon as she opens the door, we all hear this chattering and such, and I can tell from the back of Martel's head she's disturbed as hell.

Then, she turns around and looks at me. "Uh…Greed?" She's holding a piece of paper and motions for me to come over. Sighing, since I'm a lazyass, I get up and walk over. She gives me the paper and I read it:

_Dear Greed,_

_This is probably unexpected, but…I'm dead. Really. I am! I sent a certificate, too, if you don't believe me! I'm not just trying to send these kids off or anything—! I'm not a cheap-o, just 'cause I happen to be a hooker. But anywho, if you get this, I have been tragically murdered by one of my costumers, or I've died of some STD or whatever. I leave these children to you. Take good care of them, okay? They're eight, nine, and three. _

—_Anonymous_

_P.S. Yes, you're a daddy. I know you're really busy doing nothing most of the time, but make some sacrifices, okay? THESE ARE YOUR CHILDREN, TOO, AFTER ALL._

_P.P.S. …You owe me twenty bucks. Give it to one of the kids and they'll…uh, pray it to me. Yeah._

"'Kids'?" I repeat. "What the hell is this broad talking about…?" Martel points a thumb at the door, and lo and behold: KIDS. Three dirty little kids. One of them is picking their nose. The other is picking their ass. The other is picking their…well, what OTHER holes do kids have?

"…Yo," one of them mutters.

"So you're a father, eh?" Loa asks; everyone's surrounding me now.

"How UNSURPRISING," Martel mutters as she so elegantly facepalms. Always with the damn facepalms, this one.

"How many hookers have you gone down on?" sighs Drochet. "So we can have a fine idea of what free-loader dumped the kiddies onto you…"

"Lost count," I groan. Gah, I stopped tallying at ninety; I kid you not. But I know for a fact that whoever it was, I was like, their best costumer—my upper-body isn't the ONLY thing I can turn into stone. "It doesn't matter anyway—these kids are going back to the dump where they were conceived."

Now, yes, I HAVE slept with many people, which I've mentioned, say, countless times already. So everyone, including me, was thinking, _'About freaking time already.' _If Pride can get a kid, so can I. Seriously. But, unlike him, _I_ have a life. Pets are a waste of time, and canines give me hives.

"Oh, you can't do that," the one who greeted me said; we all looked at him like he sprouted three freaking heads and a tail (which, to us, is pretty normal, but metaphorically speaking). "You can't just give us up. I mean, you're our DAD—we want to spend time with you since, uh…"—he looked at his bare arm—"…our mom was tragically murdered by one of her costumers." The little bugger looked up at us with these bigass kitty eyes. I could hear Martel and the others submitting, but I didn't buy it for a second—Greed ain't a sucker. "And plus, you owe her like…twenty bucks or something."

I raised an eyebrow; that little speech had a chance to be profound. "Look, kid—"

"It's Remington; I'm the eight-year-old mentioned in the note." He pointed to the two kids next to him. "That's Tabby, the three-year-old, and Thor, the nine-year-old."

Like any other normal person (hah, I was about to say human, but then I realized I'm NOT—I'm a _saint_), my first thought was, '_Those are some effed-up names.' _But for some reason, my crew looked willing to help the little bastards. It was freaking agitating knowing they believed I actually had an ounce of RESPONSIBILITY. I'm _Greed_, dammit—! My only job is to kick ass and take names…and be hot.

"Well, _Remington_, go scurry back to your mother and tell her to shove it."

"Oh, like you did to her?"

Smartass. And aren't little kids supposed to believe that stork shit?

And it ain't like he stopped there. He all crosses his arms now. "Y'know, Mom was telling us about you…about how you lacked discipline and everything…" Well, his mother was freaking spot-on then. "Heh, and I actually assumed you'd prove her wrong…You're just a no-show." Correct again. "…Like you could succeed in taking care of three adolescents for one whole day…Pft, I guess you're not as perfect as she said you were."

My ears perked up then. _Perfect?_ Didn't he say _perfect_? I kinda blanked out on the part where he said his mom said I was a stupid, ADHD moron, but PERFECT? ANOTHER DEAD-ON ANSWER. And everyone knows I'm completely won over when complimented.

"OH, HOHOHO!" I cheer. "It's great you suddenly see my perfection!"

"…But—"

"Okay—get in, you little monkeys. And don't touch the beer. It's _Daddy's_ beer."

Am I smooth or _what_?

So now I'm stuck with a trio of runts. It's freaking amazing, really. Who knew my sperm could create some…magnificent, SMART creatures? I'm looking forward to the experience a little—it'll be like my test subjects until I get something more important, y'know? Like a rabbit. Or a fish.

* * *

**A/N**: WHOO, A NEW CHAPTER FIC. Let's see if I can do this, mmmkay? I _am_ a one-shot person, after all. But anyway, this fic was inspired by a conversation I had in a Fullmetal Alchemist guild on Gaia Online (The Seven Deadly Sins). I don't know how often I'll update, since I started high school a few weeks ago and it's KILLING ME AND OMFGWTFHELPMEOHGOD...but yeah. Hope you enjoyed it so far. :D 


	2. blame the stupidity

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am **≫ **chapter two**

And so by then, they're sitting on the lump that is the couch. It's pretty much like a beam of light; I don't know WHAT'S goin' down. I have those kinds of moments sometimes, sort of like seizures. Except without the shuddering. And drool. So I look at the kids, my gang, and back again.

"Uhhh…who are these guys?"

Martel, Dorchet, and Loa groan. Yes, I have the attention span of a withering, rotting walrus. But walruses have like, INSANE packages, and that's hardcore. They're like, inspirational, and the pump honestly doesn't work.

…Fuckin' pump.

"Father," Remington says. "So…what kinda stuff do you like?"

I gotta give the kid props, trying to start a conversation and all. But, honestly; I _don't_ do conversations. I do woman…and beer—sometimes at the same time. Anyway, so Martel flashes him this look of panic, basically saying that this kid's walking into deep, _deep_ shit. Which he is, considering _I'm_ involved. But it's the best shit you could ever get into, really.

"I dunno," I mutter. "Alcohol. Chicks. Crack."

"_Crack?_" Heh. "Isn't that…a drug?"

"Yup."

"…"

I try to steer the chit-chat off, like some DUI dude does with a truck or whatever. "What about those other two? Don't they talk? Or think for themselves? And if you're the middle kid, why exactly are you speakin' for them both? I thought the kids born in the middle of everyone else were shunned and forgotten about and pissed on."

Remington all nudges Thor, whose head is lolled to the side, eyes darting left to right. He doesn't look too…right in the head, I must say. And babies dropping on their heads by their prostitute mothers doesn't seem too surprising—

Okay. Uncalled for. It's not like kids with head traumas is something to laugh about.

…Who the hell am I trying to convince?

"Uh…hey…little guy…?" At least I'm _trying_ to be nice—! And what was disturbing was the fact Thor looks like a cross between a dick-wielder and a vagina-downer. And a chimpanzee. (Couldn't help thinkin' of that Fullmetal dude by then, frankly.) So looking at him is like looking at the Sun for way, _way_ too long: _your eyes just begin to burn in all the wrong places._

Thor then opens his mouth. Believe it or not, all his teeth are perfectly placed and shining an almost blinding white. And they're pointy, too, like a shark's. Kind of…odd, really. But I kinda liked 'em, y'know? It looks like he's about to say something. We're all gulping in tune with the background music (…hah, someone slipped on a record—breaking the forth wall is _so_ last century), until…

Out comes something of roar.

I mean, not _even_ a roar. But like…a roar/moan. If it were to come from a chick while I came down on her, then hey, I'd be pretty aroused. But a little, transgender _boy_? Not my thing. Call Envy or something if you want a homosexual pedo, but _Greed-o_ doesn't swing that way. _He_ swings straight up, all the way up to Booby Heaven. Which he hopes Lust will be in since she's sex on legs. And maybe Sloth, too, 'cause the mother-type is a personal kink of mine.

I pretty much jump back in my seat a little, basically disturbed as hell. All that smartass Remington does and shrug and point at that _thing_ he calls a brother. "…He's not really…smart. And Tabby is almost three, and she's not really good at talking."

We look at Tabby. I immediately feel a little light-hearted, 'cause she's pretty…_cute_ and all. Man, I am NOT turning into a pussy, but hell, she was scrumptious. If I was that bitchy witch from that one story Loa told me about that candy house, I'd eat this chick right up…and regurgitate her remains and eat her again for kicks. And to my surprise, she was yellow-haired, unlike her siblings who had dark hair like myself. And she's got these bows in her hair, and a completely dumbfounded look on her face. _Awwww._

"Dada," she says. I almost slip out a little squeal, but I contain myself. Remington gives her a pat on the head like she's some sort of reward-winning dog. Seriously—I was half-expecting the guy to pull out some freakin' gourmet bone and balance it on her nose or something.

Tabby looks at Martel, her head tipped to the side a little. She then extends a tiny finger and points straight at my colleagues' breasts.

"Melons—!"

…Wow.

Just freaking wow.

Martel covers her chest with her arms like she was being felt up, and lets out something of a squeak. "WHAT did she say?"

Moron. My lovely _daughter_ was talking about those lovely globs you call breasts. Duh. But, of course, I say, "Seems _this_ one is into sexual harassment…I like her already."

"But Greed—! SHE'S ONLY TWO."

"The earlier the better, I always say; at least _I_ don't have to teach her about the laws of women and like…menstrual cramping."

"THAT ISN'T ALL WOMEN ARE ABOUT."

"…Really?" And I'm actually being serious, too.

"_Uggggggggh_."

Tabby interrupts by shining those hugeass eyes of hers, and flailing her arms. "Dada 'n m-melon OTP! Harem time!"

I raise an eyebrow. "_Hammertime_…?"

"'Harem,' Greed," Loa says. "I believe your kin is referring to the erotic type of harem that is filled with, if you will, _sex_ parties." He clears his throat all smart-like. Leave it to Loa to know everything about absolutely nothing. "And 'OTP' means 'one true pairing'—a fan fiction term. Fan fiction if crack for people who are interested in the same subject; they can make the characters do anything for their own sick amusement. Thank God _I'm_ hardly ever featured in it…"

"…Just shut the hell up."

Thankfully, he does—but after saying one thing: "Your kids are just like you, Greed—demented, stuck-up, and horny."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I am touched. Greed has gotten to know his children more...Wonderful. Super-tastic. (And heh, a horny two-year-old; I couldn't resist.) Also, I based Tabby off of Kirimi (you know, Nekozawa's little sis?) from _Ouran High School Host Club_. How I LOVE that series. Remington is based off one of my old classmates from elementary school. He isn't as smart as THIS Remington, but yeah. He was a strange little dude. And Thor? Uhhhh, I don't know. A camel? 

But thanks for reading. :D


	3. blame the sugar

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am // chapter three**

This was all I heard. Every single God-forsaken day:

"Dada, me poop. SCOOPY!"

"Father, can you do something about this milk? It has chunks in it—it means it's SPOILED. Do you even KNOW what this milk could do to us? We could get cancer!! Do you even KNOW what cancer _is_?"

And don't forget the intangible MOAN/ROAR from Thor. Ugggh. The kids just wouldn't stop bitching! It was so freaking annoying! After a week, I wanted to rip my hair out. And it ain't like Loa, Dorchet, and Martel were actually helping. Hell, it's like they WANTED me to do something! Hah!

So one bright 'n shiny day, I'm coming down on a prostitute on the couch. A pretty little thing—nice, long hair, red-coated lips, and these really bangin' double D's. It was my birthday, so I decided to treat myself.

…Well, not really—I just wanted to treat myself.

So I'm getting' into it (literally), and in pops the Ambiguously Gay Trio. Lately, they've been gnawing on my ankles and shit about food, so I expected the same. The little buggers always seemed to walk in at the freaking WORST times imaginable—last time, I was taking a dump. And the time before _that_, I was reading Playboy WHILE taking a dump. Pft.

"We're hungry," Remington states blankly.

"Whoop-dee-doo," I mutter. "So am I—which is why I have a _friend_ over." I motion towards the door. "Get out."

"Whoooo's shhhhe?" coos Tabby. "She pretty!"

The hooker under me grins. "Aw! Why thank you, little girl—"

"Don't say anything!" I yell at her. "Blondie'll bug you all day and follow you home and stuff. And plus, whores aren't programmed to feel—you shouldn't even be saying anything in the first place."

I am the KING of LOGIC.

And for some reason, Slut Mcsluttikins looks all offended, and gets up and leaves. What a waste of a banana (I'm famous for paying in fruit—hey, it'll help those anorexic weirdoes better than freaking money which will most likely be spent on crack anyway). Bitch. I wanted to strangle those little midgets I called my kids, but I took my anger out on the couch. Which I regret _now_, 'cause a few weeks after this incident, I was coming down on ANOTHER prostitute (she did it for three kiwis), and like, we had to bang on some table, and one of us probably got AIDs in the process.

So we ALL lose.

"Uh, Father?" Remington sighs.

I roar at him. Like a lion. It seemed smart at the time, but some of my pride when into that roar.

"Acting like an animal won't really help," he replies. "We're still hungry."

"Well, eat some of the wallpaper, or something!" I snap. "I was thinking of redecorating, anyway."

"…Eating wallpaper will result in serious organ-related diseases. Such as digestive problems, considering wallpaper most likely has glue on the other side, thus making it sticky. And glue isn't exactly healthy. So, no, we are not going to feast upon the walls' clothes—which I'm using in a personification-manner, mind you. And I don't know about YOU, but I'd rather not have flower-covered feces."

Yeah. I wasn't even listening. I flipped on the radio to drown out that nasally, queerass voice. (And no, my wallpaper DOESN'T have flowers on it—it's ALL MAN.)

"Tell ya what," I start sayin'. "If you shut that piehole of yours, I'll take you three out for ice cream."

"ICEY CWEAM!" Tabby cheers. Little kids and their sugary treats. It's like freaking taboo, I tell you.

Thor moans. Loudly. And almost orgasmic-like.

"Agreed," Remington says.

Score one for me, zero for the dwarfs.

-------------------------------

"…Shit."

Okay—so we're halfway to the ice cream parlor. Yes, I actually kept my promise. SO not like me, correct? I thought I drugged them while they were sleeping, so they'd be knocked out by noon, but apparently not (which makes we wonder…what the hell did I drug?). They're bright and freaking shining. Ugh. But, you know, I realize I don't have any damn money. At all. My stupidass sidekicks probably took my stash, because they're assholes and wanted to use it as a plot device.

"What's the matter?" Remington asks. He is totally holding my hand—so is Tabby. Thor is holding Remington's. So it's like a chain of awesome with like, three leftovers.

Aha.

…Ha.

"I'm broke," I say plainly. I expect looks of disappoint upon those little faces, but instead, Remington smirks—a smirk that'd rival Envy's (that ho). He whips out some wallet like a Goddamn businessman, and opens it. Inside, it is absolutely PACKED with bills. Bills as in money. Money as in DAMN, THIS KID IS LOADED.

"…Who the hell did _you_ rob?" I ask.

"No one." He put the wallet away like it was some sacred vase or whatever. "Mother is pretty popular."

"So she whored herself away for that much cash? SHE probably has some long-lost kids somewhere that she didn't know she gave birth to…which isn't really possible. But considering the circumstances—and drugs—she can MAKE is possible."

"You're not even talking now—you're just making noise."

"Well, at least I can do _this_." I proceed in tapping the top of my head and rubbing my stomach simultaneously. Hardcore. Seriously.

"…Yep. But, no, Mother didn't—she's in the military now. And very high up there, thanks." Who ISN'T freaking in the military anymore? Those bitches must cover dental or something. "She's very generous, too, and my allowance is pretty nice."

"'Pretty nice'—?!! _You're _a spoiled little fu—"

"Why, thank you—but the point _is_, I never expected you to pay for our ice cream anyway…Maybe a little, but I was overestimating you, apparently; _that_ and I saw your savings jar and it had a piece of paper that said 'no' on it…"

"Oh, shut up. So I'm bad with money—I don't need Richie Rich acting like a banker. And plus, why do you think I STEAL stuff? Some people do it for the excitement, but hell, I DO IT FOR THE MONEY. I'M THE REAL DEAL."

"Father, let's just get some ice cream."

"Good idea.

-------------------------------

Now we're at the stand. It's pretty lameass, too, which pictures of cotton candy and all this other wussy stuff. And I don't see why they have cotton candy decorations in a damn ice cream stand. But they can work how they wanna work—I'm just saying they needed some get some ICE CREAM on their ICE CREAM stand. Freaks.

Some busty chick's the cashier person. And by busty, I MEAN busty. Those things were HUGE. It's a surprise I ordered while looking at her face. Honestly. Even _Tabby_ pulled me down and whispered, "Silicon," into my ear. Just that single word. A hug seemed necessary by then, but you know—PDA and stuff.

And Remington suddenly decided to not be an asshole and buys me a cone—chocolate (I'm old school). So I'm all handing the chick the money, and _this_ little number slips out: "Here's your tits—uhhhh, I mean your ten cents…Um, yeah."

There's a time for sexual harassment (believe me, half my schedule is dedicated to it)—but buying diabetes on a cone is NOT.

Then we're walking away. Remington looks up at me and grins. "Smooth…"

"Yeah, just like the inside of your mom—SHUDDUP."

* * *

**A/N**: It's really fun writing in the point-of-view of a middle-aged man. :D No joke. Whoever hasn't tried should. My dad had to add a new harddrive to our computer, which gave me time to type this chapter up (yes, I've been slacking off), along with few other one-shots. But I'm gonna have a freaking busy weekend...I'm probably gonna go down to London (psst, I live in England!) with my parents, and there's GONNA BE A ANIME CON THERE. Called London Expo. xD It's not only gonna have anime stuff, but yeah. Vic Mignogna is going to be there. VIC. AS IN EDWARD ELRIC. Though, I don't really like the dub. _And_ Ed's voice got annoying after awhile. But it doesn't really matter. :D (What is this, a journal?) 

Thanks for reading!


	4. blame the apathy

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am // chapter four**

A lovely day it is. A lovely freaking day.

The birds are chirping, the sun is shining—and most importantly, NO KIDS. Yes, you heard me. Absolutely _none._ Life is like a bundle of puppies inside a basket…except, you know, minus the puppies. And the basket. Only to be replaced by strippers.

You're probably sitting there, thinkin', 'Oh, gee golly gosh!'—heh, like you're actually an innocent little pussy like THAT if you're reading _this_ effed-up memoir that is my everyday life—'What in the world is the all-mighty GREED speaking of?' Oh, I'll tell you. I'll tell you until your brain collapses onto itself thanks to the pure greatness of it all.

_So it was dawn (cue flashback music)…_

"Yo, Greed!" Martel hisses. "Get up! It's one in the afternoon!" (Yeah, so it wasn't dawn—it was like, noon or whatever. But it's dawn because I say so. Shut up.)

I groan and moan and bitch and stuff, but I'm on my feet. The floor isn't really comfortable. And from the _taste_ of my mouth, something other than booze was gracing my lips before I pranced off to dreamland. That something probably being a cockroach.

But then I notice something—something very strange…And like, unusual. And out of the ordinary. And stuff: it's _quiet_. So then, I realize something is freaking up.

"…Where are those lovechildren of mine?" I ask.

Well, not only was it quiet, but the room lacked its usual…murky, ass-y smell. That kind of contributed to my little deduction.

"That's what we're here about," Loa said. "We kinda saw them leave a second ago."

"…"

FUCK.

I mean, it's not like I cared or something…well, yeah. I _did _care that the punks were gone. Which, in itself, just added to the suspense of the situation. But beggars can't be choosers, right? I wanted some time alone. And, cripes, that's exactly whatever the god I worship laid down in front of my polished shoes.

But, dammit, they sure were good ploys to get chicks to talk to me. Not that they didn't—the kids just acted like a dog would in any other normal society (you know, when you're walking in the park with a little mutt?).

_Any_way…

So I take myself a big breath. "Really? Splendid. Splend-freaking-did."

"Don't you even CARE that your own flesh and blood are walking around in the slums?" Martel preaches. "Something could happen…like adultery—!!" Martel? Telling ME about adultery? HAH. "People here are very horny, Greed. _Very._ They may even choose to resort to underage kids with half-assed fathers to fulfill their dark desires.

"Well, what do ya know?" I scratch my pits. "If they choose Remington and the other two, those little pedos know where it's at."

"…Greed, I'm serious. Who knows what could happen to them?"

And for a brief moment, I imagine what _could_ happen to them—actually, it was more like a fantasy. I hoped it involved something painful like a car. Or a kick to the crotch. But I all decide that I might as well look for them, seeing how I had nothing better to do. Why, yes—yes I _am_ a freaking saint.

I get off my ass and the adventure begins—!!

-------------------------------

"Well, have you seen them?"

"Who?"

"Uh, my kids."

"…WHO?"

"My kids."

"Oh, I can't knit today—I already promised Martha May a scarf, young whipper-snapper…"

"Look, hag—HAVE YOU OR HAVE YOU NOT SEEN MY CHILDREN? Or am I going to have to shove those freakin' stick things up your WRINKLY, SHAGGY ass—?!!"

"Could you repeat that, Darlin'?"

So I'm inhaling and exhalin', and Martel's just patting me on the shoulder. Like hell old people would know where three kids were, let alone their Goddamn hands. Which doesn't even really make any sense. But whatever.

As the granny skips away (I secretly hope a hip or something snaps), I light a cig and take a swig. I don't know how we ended up in the middle of town so quick, but it didn't really matter all that much. "_This_ is pretty gay."

"If you keep on complaining, you'll lose hope too quickly," Martel says.

"Do me a favor and cut the fortune cookie talk. And speaking of things that are totally irrelevant, where the hell are the sidekicks to _my _sidekick, Dorchet and Loa?"

"Uhhh…gone? I don't know."

I snicker. "They're on a date, eh? My gaydar went totally haywire when I first met those two. Honestly. As much as it did when I met lovely little En-En." I flick the burned-out cigerette onto the ground. "Not that I'm not having a _blast _or anything, but I seriously want this the hell over with."

"Greed!! Don't you even care about Remcunting, Whore, and Cabby?"

Now, then, I'm not thinking, '_Oh, she totally _slaughtered_ my kids' names_,' but, _'Wow, what delicious nicknames.' _I guess I'm simple-minded. But that single sentence from her didn't really sound like Martel—no, not at all. The vocabulary sounded almost…strange. And not strange by MY standards, per se, but by the standards of any other regular person. The vocabulary was pine-scented, dipped in lubrication, and queer by all means possible.

And THIS, my friends, is when my magnificent day comes to a roadblock.

"Oh, shitty-kins—you're Envy, aren't you?"

Martel smirks and then transforms to the hideous abstract painting that is Envy the homunculi. I raise an eyebrow because hell, I'm always right, and I should've smelt the rotting beef from a mile away. Envy is the type to know when to cut the act and just kick ass. But, of course, he sucks, and no form of ass kicking is really ever performed by him. Loser.

"Hey there, Greed," he purrs.

"And what brings you here, my androgynous friend?"

"Lust informed me of your filthy little _human_ children, and I'm sure you know the rest."

"What, you sprayed perfume in their faces and made them wear skirts or whatever?"

Envy paused. "Well, yeah, a little, but I totally kidnapped them after that. They're hid somewhere and I'm not letting you have them 'til you do US a favor."

"'_Us'?" _

And then _poof! _There's literally smoke everywhere and then I see two familiar figures—an HOTASS hourglass, and like…a blob or some sort. And then the fog clears up and there's Lust and Gluttony standing there, looking sexy.

"_Us, _of course," Lust says.

I lift my sunglasses and I can't help but smile. "Oh-oh-_oh_—if I knew YOU were coming, I would've dressed up…"

She immediately lifted her hand and extended those fingernails of hers. "Say another word, and I castrate you."

Lust reads me like a book! I _love_ a woman who can be dominant—!!

"As Envy was saying," she continues, "we need your services. There's a cockroach around interfering with our duties that needs to be squished as soon as possible. So _you're_ going to help us." She walks up a little for dramatic effect; Gluttony lugs behind her, suckling his hugeass fingers. "And if you refuse, those children of yours will pay the price."

I stroke my chin. "And what happens if I don't?"

"…I just told you. If you _don't, _I will personally murder your children. Understood? And while I'm at it, why not the woman who conceived them, too?" She purses those perfect, dark lips.

For a second, I pause. It was like, a win-win situation, really—if I _did_ it (meaning help them), then well, I get to kill someone and that just adds to my street cred. If I _didn't_, I get to know the identity of slut-muffin who I graced with my seed. So I think and I think and I think, think, think, and I agree to help them. Why? It makes for a good story.

So Lust smirks and Envy sneers and Gluttony drools. And me? _I_ know that I'm in for one hell of a time.

* * *

**A/N**: Hi, everyone! Sorry for putting this off for awhile. This fic is so much fun to write. :D And I have a question: Should I change the rating for this story from T to M? The language isn't exactly T, and neither are a few of the themes. I just don't want this story to get deleted like many of my other ones, and reposting it would be pretty lame. Input would be absolutely lovely, and happy holidays! 


	5. blame the bargain

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am // chapter five**

Hey, kiddies.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Don't think I just got lazy and didn't feel like scribbling down my little Homunculus escapade onto the parchment that is my wonderful, gorgeous, extremely sexual life. I was _teasing_ you, you crazy little angels—haven't you ever heard of foreplay? Because I am ALL up for foreplay (…and lying—foreplay and lying gets me hot). Not let's just pick up where I last left off, and you can ignore the hugeass gap between this _amazing_ piece of literature and the last.

Alrighty then, bitches.

Is it recap time?

I think it's recap time.

So, the Whore Patrol took my kids. They're gonna kill the hell out of them if I don't murder that Fullmetal kid. Very vague, I know, but they were going to lay down the line at their immensely queer hideout.

…Which was my basement (or the bar's basement…which is _my_ basement).

Apparently, they set up a _base_ (OH, MY GOD—GET IT?!!) there a few months ago, which is why they knew about Remington, Tabby, and Thor. Convenient, isn't it? Being stalked by a babe, a _Babe_, and a drag queen? Yeah. Pretty damn convenient.

"I can't believe you've been watching me this whole time!" I bitch. "Can't a man have a private life?!" It almost scared me how much I took all of this to heart. This sudden burst of sensitivity must've meant that Envy's gayness rubbed off on me a bit. "How didn't I realize it sooner? Downstairs is the wine cellar!" And the S&M cellar. Heh heh.

"Well, for one," Lust says, "you're a complete idiot with the attention span of a fish." Sorry, I can't hear you—_too busy staring at your HUGE rack_. "And the fact that we're all masters in stealth helps made it quite easy to watch you. It was all child's play, really."

"And the walls are thin, too," Envy mutter. "Just thought I'd mention that." He gives me a 'you-fucking-ho' look, and I return the lovely gesture with an all-powerful middle finger.

"…You need to leave eating people to me," Gluttony says, still sucking on his thumb. That thing must look like a large grape…or a penis. Which is, ultimately, probably what Gluttony's manparts look like. But, hey, not everyone can be as blessed as me.

"Just tell me what to do," I sigh. "Geez, this is the worst reunion ever. At least _last_ time, I got to see Lust workin' a coat. Unless, of course…" I look at her all sensually. "…you'd like to slip into something more…_comfortable?_"

The next few minutes are a blur. But when I wake up, I am strapped to this chair and my pants are _reeeeeally_ riding up in the crotch area (probably Envy's doing). When I reach down to adjust, I realize my hands are taped together.

THESE GUYS ARE _ALL _ABOUT CONVENIENCE, AREN'T THEY?

"Now that you're _comfortable_," says Lust, "let me explain how this is going to work: we already know where Fullmetal is—not far from here, actually—do we'll direct you towards him. He should be staying at an Inn right now, so don't even try to be polite and take him outside for a brawl. Just do your bidding wherever he happens to be. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Envy and Gluttony walk over and abruptly untie me. I remain unscathed (meaning unmolested) and manage to get out of that damn house with my balls intact. I grunt when the sunlight reaches my eyes, relieved that I am finally a-freakin'-lone. Until, of course, Envy appears at my side, not seeming to care he looks like a complete retard. So, naturally, I grunt when his fugly _face_ reaches my eyes.

"What are YOU doing here?"

"Didn't Lust say 'we were going to direct you'?"

"So where's the 'we'?"

"Me!"

"…CHRIST."

I half-expect him to jump on a horse and beckon me onto it so we can ride into the light to go like, fishing or whatever, but, thankfully, he just keeps walking. I follow him, and upon minutes of exiting the town, we're in another one. But it seems pretty—how do you say—_ghetto_. Skanky women lined the streets, wearing very spiffy outfits and sporting breasts that'd make Lusts' blush. They keep on winking at me, and, being the gentlemen that I am, I do the same.

And then we reach another part of town where _men_ line the streets. They have weird mustaches and weird hats and _ewwwwww_, it smelt like Chapstick. Envy was probably having the time of his life, that bastard. And again, my gentlemen-self shining and simmering, it would be rude of me to interrupt his joyous moment. So, naturally, I do.

"That one in the thong seems to like you."

"Screw you."

We have a _wonderful_ friendship.

Finally, after like, fifty million years, we reach a very run-down hotel thing. It looks like some old chick's pubes or something. Haha. I really don't see why we're there, because I remember Fullmetal being all rich and stuff because he's a short dork who's never going to get laid. But _why_ would he be _there_?

As if he read my mind, Envy says, "We kinda robbed the pipsqueak during our last encounter. Taking away his means of getting around is pretty damn helpful. He's living off of crackers now—_pft_."

"So he's in there, right?" I say. "Any particular room? I can just throw something at his window and see what he does—he'll probably dump his peeing can on me…and I hear that piss can be good for the skin. So it's not like I'm NOT up for it."

"…Why do you even _talk_?" Good question. "And you can just destroy the whole building now if you want to. It's not like it even matters."

"Uh, no—I'm a man of class."

"Which is why you knocked up some random female human."

"You have it all wrong, Miss Skort: 'which is why I _knock_ up random female human_s_.' It's all about numbers, man." I clear my throat. "ANYway, I'm not going to kill without a cause. I'm here for Edward, so I'll get Edward—not some twisted family who decided to study up on what poverty does to the world. Got it?"

"Fine."

That was sorta his cue to hit the road. But when he just stands where he is, hair gaily swishing in the wind, I yell, "UM. YEAH. LEAVE."

"No can do," he laughs, cracking his knuckles. "That kid beat me up pretty bad last time—I want some payback."

"Payback, eh?"

We look to the side. Because that voice wasn't mine. It was prepubescent and _trying_ to be all manly. And, for your information, it wasn't really being pulled off. But Envy and I could recognize that voice anywhere—and we did. So that little kid walks out of the hotel (he's so small, we didn't even notice he was there like, the whole time), his younger brother towering over him. He has that trademark smirk plastered across his nicely tanned face as he struts over, his freakish arm readied.

"I didn't expect you two to be here," he tells us, still smiling. "If I'm not mistaken, aren't you enemies? Am I too tough that you had to resort to working together to take me down? That's…_cute_." His voice leaked of venom, but I was glad I wasn't the ONLY one who saw the situation in all its gay glory.

He went on. "I won't forgive you for taking everything we had, Envy! Now, I'll finally put an end to this!"

Then, Fullmetal just glides over, taking Envy to the ground. I kind of laugh to myself, until I felt this massive amount of cold metal push _me_ down. I look up, and YAAAAY (fake excitement, mind you), whatshisfacebrotherdude is making himself useful! I actually hear him apologize to me under his breath as he whips out some martial arts on my face, and my sunglasses break…as well as a part of my nonexistent heart. I screech and grab him, too, turning my arm to its rock state and smashing his chest plate.

He yelps, and I get up, picking up the remains of my kickass shades. I look at them in horror, and, giving the kid on last look, I assure him, "Now, _it's personal_."

"Worst father award much?" I hear Envy call over. I don't even know how the fight between him and Ed are going, and frankly, I didn't even really care—the worst is a lot brighter without sunglasses. Literally. The damn sun was scorching my eyes.

"FATHER—?!!" Ed shouts. He stops jumping around, and Alphonse (suddenly remembered his name!) gets to his feet. Fullmetal points a finger at me, eyebrow arched. "You have…_kids_?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" I sigh. "I joined up with Envy and Lust and Gluttony because, being the bitches that they are, they kidnapped my kids and unless I take you and your bro back to your makers, I'm never seeing them again. So I guess I'm not the asshole you thought I was…except not really."

Edward's face falls. If his head wasn't suffering major blunt object trauma, he'd actually look compassionate. But he and Al exchange looks, and they seem to know what they're both thinking, but _I _sure as hell don't. But Ed opens his mouth again.

"Kids…you say?"

"Yup—shall I spell it out for you? One-night stand. Lots of liquor. Then, _poof!_ Three crazy little midgets at my door! Tragic, isn't it?"

"…We're coming with you."

"Are you serious—?!!" Envy spits (no, really—he spat).

Fullmetal looks sure of himself. Me and Envy kinda stare at him, because, DAMN, what a wimp he's become, letting some really lame story get to him. Even if I didn't capture him, I'd probably just stab all my "comrades" and run away with their hostages. It'd be that simple. But the boy was making the job all the easier, so it wasn't like we'd refuse—we're not THAT retarded.

"It's not like you even want us dead in the first place," Ed points out. "So I might as well go…I don't want anyone else dying because of me. I…don't think I could take that."

Envy seems unfazed. "…O-_kaaaaay_. Let's go then." That simple.

I give Ed and Al a look, and they give me a look back, and it's like they're expecting a hug or something. As Envy ties their hands back like the good little lapdog he is with rope he probably pulled out of his panties, I just smile at them.

"You whores owe me a new pair of sunglasses."

* * *

**A/N**: IT'S BEEN FOREVER. But I haven't forgotten about you guys. C: I'm moving back to America next month, so I'll try to upload as many new fics as I can (which is why I worked on this chapter in such a hurry). I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments are lovely. ♥ 


	6. blame the sap

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am // chapter six**

I'm not gonna hold it against if you get off on my AMAZING escapades. I mean, heh, who DOESN'T? I know _I _do, and I'M the one telling the story. I should put some sort of caution sign somewhere: "WARNING: KEEP LOTION AND TISSUES HANDY."

But maybe you guys are thinking too much or something. This story requires absolutely no thinking, so if you're doing so, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises—the wank-filled utopia that is, well…THIS place. Whatever it's called. Uh, Hell. With a TWIST (seeing how I, myself, occupy it).

So WHAT'S the point of this little one-on-one talk?

Um, nothing, really.

So, where we were, anyway?

Oh, so Envy and I got Edward and Whatever (that's his name now—_Whatever_) captured and shit. We're walking back to the town where this whole thing started, and frankly, I'm getting a little pissed off. Fullmetal and Whatever are frantically whispering to each other as if I don't have any freaking ears or something, and Envy is just THERE, which is enough to NOT tickle my fancy.

But, then, Fullmetal gives Envy a hard, scrutinizing look, and grunts, "Where the hell are you taking us?"

"Heh, why does it matter?" Envy answers, grabbing the kid's braid. Gaaaay. "It's not going to mean a thing where you are when Lust, Gluttony, and I torture you to death."

"And just HOW are you going to do that?!!"

"Oh, the usual." Envy smirks, nodding toward the hugeass hunk of metal. "I'm sure your darling brother will have something to do with it, though." He laughs at his own joke. Fullmetal cringes. Whether it was because of the threat or the horrid shriek that is Envy's laugh, I don't know.

I decide to intervene, seeing how I'M the leading man here. "Wait, am _I _gonna have to do something to the little guy?"

Envy scratches his head. "If you WANT to, I guess." He looks a little disappointed, like my taking part with said torturing would lessen his chances with Ed's body afterwards…which it probably _would_, because as soon as I'd see a certain bulging of a certain body part in a certain skort, I'd off Envy faster than you can say "INSANE BUTTSEX." I may be a selfish, open-minded bastard, but I don't really enjoy the thought of anyone getting it up the poop-shoot. Sorry.

"_WHAT?!_" Ed shouts. He sure likes shouting, the annoying bitch. I'm not sure he realizes that Envy is turned on by his rough talk. But it's not like it's MY ass on line, so more power to him. "You're going to…to…HELP them?!" It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me. "When I'm in this situation for the sake of YOU in the FIRST place?!!"

I roll my eyes. "It's not really _my_ problem that you're girly and into kids and stuff. And do me a favor and stop screaming—Envy is getting hard as we speak."

Ed ignored my last comment. "I can't BELIEVE you…Do you even CARE about your kids?"

"Well, SURE, I guess."

"And do you think that Lust and everyone else will just let you have them as soon as we arrive on their doorstep? HUH?!! Is it really THAT simple with you guys?!"

"Heh, _probably_. As you said, we're classified as 'you guys'—we're pretty much a big, demented family—"

"—FULL OF DECIEVE AND VIOLENCE—"

"—that can mutually trust each other. So keep your pants on—_please keep them on, oh, God_—and calm down. If it makes you feel a little better, I won't torture you OR your brother. In fact, I didn't even WANT to. So THERE—HAPPY?"

Fullmetal puffs. "Okay…"

I can't help but feel a little put on the spot right now. The midget just goes out and YELLS at me, and dammit, for some odd reason, I feel a little like the bad guy. Well, moreso than usual. Because it IS because of me he's in this situation, and as much as I don't want to admit it, I kinda wanna help him.

So I do.

I don't know WHAT comes over me, but in one swift motion, my arm turns to its rock state, and _BAM! _It collides with Envy's skull (oh, wait—if I hit Envy's head, it wouldn't sound like a bam but more like a bigass rock hitting a hollow egg of some homosexual chicken; my mistake). Envy hits the ground with a thud, and I smirk. Ed's head (AHAHAHA) looks ready to burst open, and Whatever is sputtering random gibberish. I strike a pose, feeling confused but not really showing it.

"What the—?!?" Ed says. He breaks the rope tying his hands back (to my disbelief), and undoes his brother's. Then, he looks straight up at me. "Look, I'm not even going to ASK—"

"Then don't."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Uh, yeah, I think you were." I sigh impatiently. "So are we gonna jet or what? Envy doesn't stay unconscious for long. Why do you think he's so jacked up? When men try to molest him in his sleep, he wakes up in the damn middle and just takes it!"

"…How 'bout I don't ask questions, and you quit it with the gay jokes?"

"…Deal."

-------------------------------

And NOW, we're back in town…!

No, really.

"Okay…" I mutter, scratching my head. The surroundings are as busy as usual, and we're at the town square. It took about twenty minutes to get there by foot, and let me tell you—_AWKKKKWARD_. "So should I just leave you here or what?"

"Greed…" Whatever says, tugging at my coat. "Why…why did you do it?"

"Do I even need a reason?"

"Well, YES! I threw your chances of getting your kids back just like THAT!! Are we really worth it…?"

"Uh, _no_—I don't even _know_ who the hell you are."

"My point exactly! You gave up your kids, who you've known forever"—I laugh a little at this, being my demented self—"for US: Edward and Alphonse Elric, people who are SUPPOSED to be your enemies. I just…don't get it…"

I snicker a little more. I bet they think it's because of my general snarkiness, but it's because of the lame name this kid has. _Alphonse_. Pfft. His parents might as well have just adopted a rainbow-spouting unicorn and be done with it.

"I'll leave keep it as simple as I can, Ally—I just _don't know,_ okay? You guys seemed helpless and I'm a sucker for damsels in distress. I'll get over losing the kids, alright? I only knew them for like, three days! I've had longer bonding times with hookers!" Literally. "Just take my kindness and run with it, no matter HOW bad it feels. I'll just…I don't know…do what I do best…"

My voice trails off a little. I'm a dick and I know it.

"_You're_ the one who seems helpless," someone finally says. It's Fullmetal. "How about _we_—meaning you, me, and Al—go get those kids back, eh? And _then_ we'll take your kindness and run with it, as long as you do the same for us."

"…Deal."

If I was a dick before, I'm a pussy now.

* * *

**A/N**: A reviewer pointed out how could Greed have a one-night stand that left him with three kids, at three different ages. I'm sure at least one other person was thinking that. Maybe it was just a mistake by yours truly… 

OR MAYBE IT WAS A SUPER, SPECIAL, AWESOME PLOT TWIST NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT ABOUT…!

…Or maybe it was just a mistake by your truly. Dx

So, I apologize! I'll leave it there for future LOLZ (but, dammit, we ALL know Greed has magical sperm!).


	7. blame the trust

**wham, bam, thank you, ma'am **≫** chapter seven**

Okayyyy, I'm not even going to make this introduction long. I'VE BEEN LAZY, ALRIGHT? I _do_ have somewhat of a life—one that would make even VIKINGS (whatever the hell _those_ things are) quiver. Alright?

Let's just get onto it, shall we?

Where we last left off, I handed the last of my manhood to those amazingly queer, amazingly HERE Elric brothers, Ally and Eddy. QueerfagtardsUGH! But they promised to get me my kids back, so can you blame me? Underneath all this muscle is MORE MUSCLE. And underneath _that_ muscle is an object that helps me move around. If we're being realistic here, it isn't like...a heart or anything. But let's just pretend it is for a second.

FEEL SORRY FOR ME NOW?

I sigh a little bit, and then go and untie the little buggers. I was thinking that maybe this kid wasn't as short as I thought he was, but CHRIST ALMIGHTY, I felt like grabbing a jug-o'-milk and force-feeding it to him. Which I would want to do anyway even if he was at normal height, because the smell of milk makes a certain BEAUTIFUL TROUSER SNAKE perky (sorry, I'm a manwhore). This kid, the shrimp, looks pretty proud of himself, because he managed to outsmart me. Obviously, he thinks he's got something pretty freakin' awesome up his sleeve. But _I_ run things--he just doesn't know it yet. I could push him into the street and dance on his little face if I wanted to!

We start walking.

"Can I ask you a question?" the younger one asks.

"Uh, yeahhh_...Alphonse_..." I sort of choke myself a little to say that. Might as well call them by their original names. Isn't kissing ass a beautiful process?

"Oh, call me Al," he says. I nod, but of course I don't listen; Alphonse is a hilariously bad name, as I've mentioned before. Like I'd give up the opprotunity to use it on a regular basis. IMAGINE THE PUNS...! "But...how in the world did you have kids? Aren't _you guys..._NOT normal?"

"Hell if I know," I answer (AlPORNse...haha). "We Homunculi pretty much just run with what's given to us. You see how Lust flaunts her large, supple, LARGE, bouncing, LARGE breasts. And how Envy flaunts his immensely blatant homosexuality. And me? I flaunt my deliciously long wa—"

"YEAH, OKAY," Ed interrupts, flailing. Idiot. "So where are we gonna look? For the children, I mean?"

"We have a base somewhere, believe it or not. It's pretty fancy. Just outside of Central; I can take you guys there. It'll take awhile, though."

"Sounds good."

"Yup. But we need a ride! I can't fucking teleport or anything, so don't expect any magic tricks. And if we need to sell our bodies for a car ride, I nominate the Shrimp--you have such womanly curves."

"Shut the hell up. Believe it or not, Al and I have QUITE a bit of money. From working, because_, believe it or not_, there are quite a few people who actually work for their money."

"Oh, _haha._"

"So we'll catch a train, and it'll be pleasant. As long as you don't go SPAZZING it up."

"LOOK WHO'S TALKING! I'm a-fucking-fraid to turn my back to you! For one, you'd have a clear shot of my ass and we ALL know how fond you are of those things. _AND_ you're such a little backstabbing bitch, who's actually sort of clever. So don't fuck this up. And Al...just do what you're doing, alright? Which is NOTHING, youstupidsackofMETALorwhateveryou'remadeof."

The brothers look a little surprised about my little outburst, but, dammit, this moment sure did call for it! Morons. I oughta poison those bitches.

And we pretty much just hop onto a train from here! _That simple._ This Ed guy must sell his body (whaddup with me and these stabs at prostitution lately? I'M A FAN!). But we're on this train, right? And this hot as hell stewardess asks me if I need a towel or something. And JUST when I'm about to say, "Why, yes—my penis seems to have started to leak!", a loud, shrill sound breaks the general calmness of our little traincar.

"ED!! AL!!"

"What the f--" I start. I look over and see this blonde chick running over. Her breasts are going every which way (I _really_ shouldn't be eyeing a minor like that). Ed and Al look surprised.

"Winry...?" Alphonse says. "What're you doing here?"

"What are YOU doing here?!" she asks. "Colonel Mustang just called saying you got kidnapped! By..._ummmm..." _She eyes me like a steak dinner. Except without hunger...wait, _what?_

"By the Homunculus, you mean?" adds Ed sort of impatiently. "CLEARLY, we're with one of them. Don't worry. We've got a deal; we're going to help save this guy's—"

I butt in. "—GREED—"

"...yeah_, this guy's _children."

"Whoa..." Winry (which is apparently her name) says. "They can have kids? That's like...WOW!"

"Really, though. But it wouldn't be too good of an idea to get caught up in this. It's been smooth-sailing so far, because Greed's been cooperating with us. If we get him his kids back--which, ironically, were kidnapped by the Homunculus--he'll let us go."

"Is it really that simple?"

"Yeah, actually," I answer, not particularly liking being the FIFTH WHEEL in this epically failing conversation. "Just how I roll. Why do you think I broke it off with those other Homunculi? They're all a bunch of hardasses." I point at Ed. "And don't go thinking you're like, A HOLY LIGHT OF...LIGHT or anything; you're just helping me because _my_ comrades aren't anywhere. Hell, I'm pretty sure they disappear somewhere whenever I'm not on screen."

"Whatever you say," the kid mutters. He turns back to his large-racked friend. "Don't overreact. In fact, don't even tell anyone at HQ about this? We'll just come back, unharmed, like nothing ever happened. If they find out Al and I are helping a supposed _enemy_, they won't handle it well."

"They'd TOTALLY think you're traitors or something...you kind of are, man! THE FIRST STEP TO RECOVERING IS ADMITTING YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!"

"Who told you _that_? Your therapist?"

"Well, _duh._ All this knowledge doesn't come from thin air!" (Note: It actually does. I like pretending I'm like everyone else once in awhile.)

Edward ignores me. PUNK. "Winry, just go back home. Don't worry. When have Al and I ever _really_ gotten hurt?" She looks ready to answer, but Ed just smiles. "Rhetorical question, Winry."

Winry looks hesitant, but succumbs. "Alright..." She looks a little ashamed of herself, and just sighs. "So you guys are apparently headed to Central? But why? Thought you were pulling the whole 'incognito' thing."

"Greed told us that's where the Homunculus base is--right outside of it, anyway. So we're heading there."

"Good luck!"

We are _sooooooo_ not gonna need it.

--

As Edward mentioned, it was a fairly calm trip back. I managed to use that "penis-and-towel" joke at least five different times on the whole train trip! Yayyy!

We take a LONGGGGG walk up a randomly placed mountain hill thing (when we could've just gotten a taxi...it's like these guys are TRYING to make my perfectly manly toes all icky!). Atop this hill, is our little hideout. Dante (that little slut) had it built for us. But, knowing her, she probably killed the original owners. But I digress. It's a cute little house, three stories tall, beige in color. I kick the door open, and it's dead silent inside.

"No one's here!" says Al. It's like he's fucking here to point out the obvious.

"Where_ is _everyone?" says Ed. "You'd think there would be at least ONE of them guarding the place."

"We're not too hot on being normal, my friend," I sigh, taking a look around. "But the kids have to be here somewhere..."

I trail off, hearing large knocks from upstairs. Ed and Al look at each other and nod (always trying to be the heroes). We start running up the large staircase, and stop in front of this door painted hot pink. I snicker, because I haven't been to this house in awhile and Envy seems to have made some changes to his little abode. People are in that room...but it was only a matter who. Waiting isn't really a game I like to play, so I just open the door, and swing it open. A large pair of knockers greet me.

"What the hell?! Winry?!" I sputter.

"Did you guys _honestly_ think I was going to leave just like THAT?" she laughs.

"But like...how did you get here first? We were on the same train as you! Do your boobs give you some sort of magical ability to come at the WORST TIMES?" (That's what she said.)

"I took a taxi." She leaves it at that. I _knew_ we should've taken a taxi. "Anyway, I think I've found what you've been looking for." She moves out of the way, revealing three little bodies sitting on the floor, looking up at us.

"Ohhh, hey, Dad!"

My balls dropped to the floor.

* * *

  
**A/N**: OHMYGOD, I sure do lose at life! It's almost been a year since I last updated, hasn't it? Butttt, I finally did! I guess you can thank the fact that I had freetime in my Nutritution class (I'm a Junior now, yo) and we were at the computer lab and I typed alot and now it's Saturday and I thought I was gonna go to Fiesta Texas but I'm not today and YEAH. Sorry, everyone. I'm just going to let you all know that the next chapter will most likely be the last one. Eight is a nice place to end, right? Eight is a hot number. ALL SYMMETRICAL (lol, _Soul Eater_). Thanks for reading, anyway! Drop me a review telling me how you want to stab me! (:


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